


i can't help (i won't repeat it) the fall

by femaletodd



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman Eternal (Comics), Batman Incorporated (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Idk some action some plot, M/M, Um sex-interruption by monologue?, batfam interactions btw, but became something more, this was literally going to be a sex-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femaletodd/pseuds/femaletodd
Summary: I could never hate you, Bruce.But I tried.I really tried.





	

Jason found himself slammed hard against the wall on his back, a mouth quickly swallowing his. A low, guttural sound loosened itself out of his throat and into their attached mouths, making them both vibrate from the inside. He brought a hand up and cupped his lover’s face as their tongues caressed at a steady pace. That didn’t last longer than a few seconds once their tongues tangled and stroked over each other’s. Inhaling a shaky breath, he pushed their faces closer together, his grasp on the other man’s shoulders really digging into the hard, firm slope. Hands grabbed him around his waist and pulled him tighter, closer to a solid torso. With his eyes closed, he nibbled into tasteful, pink full lips and felt the answering shudder rumble in the other man’s chest.

Those lips moved down, hovered over the sharp angle of his jaw, before nipping small, affectionate bites down the side of his neck. He groaned in encouragement and hissed as a particularly harsh bite was rewarded on his skin. A hot tongue laved the sting away soon though and two powerful, heavy hands were gripping his rear, jerking his crotch right into the other man’s. Overwhelmed with intense desire, Jason hastily slipped his hands down to the cape over broad, muscular shoulders and clutched it tightly as he bucked his hips off to feel that friction again. Finding the impossible resolve somewhere inside him, he gripped the material in his hands and put force behind the push as he flipped the other man against the wall.

Batman growled, gripping either side of Jason’s waist with a snarl twisting up his features.

Yeah, he was sleeping with Batman. Aka Bruce Wayne.

Don’t tell him. He already knew how fucked up it was.

Jason hooked his arms easily around Bruce’s neck.

"Take me to bed, B." he purred, smirking.

Batman stared at his lips through the ominous silver lenses of his cowl and complied. He seized Jason’s rear as Jason’s calves came to wrap around his lower waist and with neither a grunt nor a groan, he strode off to the bedroom’s direction carrying Jason in his arms. His eye-lenses never shifted from Jason's own.

Jason gave him a teasing smile and glided a hand up and down the leather cowl still attached to Bruce’s head. “Don’t forget to take off the cowl while you’re at it.” He spoke, lips parting just so, knowing every motion of his bruised-up, flushed lips got to Bruce in the worst way. He also knew Bruce liked it very much when he smiled like the devil-- like he was up to something wicked-- so he did. “Or else, I won’t be sure if I’m sleeping with you or Dickie.”

When they entered his small bedroom, he was laid down very carefully at the edge of his bed.

He reclined back with his arms resting behind and passed Bruce an inquisitive look-over, arching a brow at the suit with all its hard indentations and spandex-like elasticity. He opened his mouth to say some sarcastic remarks, but then Bruce began taking off his suit so he shut up and just watched.

The Bat-suit, like every other equipment Batman owned, came with its own series of security latches and sneaky booby-traps.

It didn't take very long to pull out of though, much to his surprise. Jason didn’t mind the unwitting strip-tease he was being given. The Batman part of it wasn’t part of the draw though. It was… well…

He took a shaky breath in when the other man had shed his cowl, his torso, and bottoms along with the belt. He stood in front of Jason with all his naked glory on display and Jason stared,  unabashed because damn, those arms, those firm pecs, and those abs. Yeah, he was only human and Bruce was definitely part of the draw.

His eyes skidded to an abrupt halt between those powerful, sumptuous thighs and he murmured, “Yes,” without thinking. His hungry, parted lips tingled as a surge of heat reached past his spine and into his fingers, which he squeezed into the bedsheets with a shuddering groan.

Bruce canted his head to the side, an amused smile lingering on his lips. “Did you say something?”

Jason glared at him with fervor, “Get over here already.” He growled out, not feeling the need to be teased. He knew his desire for Bruce very well. He knew it overpowered Bruce’s minuscule desire by a hundred miles and he didn’t need to be reminded. It stung him every waking hour of his life.

Bruce didn’t move an inch despite his demand, though, just stared down at him unnervingly. His blue eyes, now that they were exposed to thin air, were electric and smoldering. They lighted up Jason’s every nerve ending until he was just a bundle of charged nerves and burning sensations who could potentially turn into mush on the spot if he didn’t do anything with his hands first.

So he rose up off the bed, huffed out: “Argh, you impossible man.” and clasped the back of Bruce’s head, dragging him down against Jason, making their lips crush together.

Bruce opened his mouth and licked into his slowly, smoothly, no rush or frenzy in his movements. Jason could totally rectify that. He was very practiced at turning Bruce’s mood from cold to hot in a matter of moments and he guessed _this_ thing was not so different from all those other times on the rooftops of Gotham. Where they fought like usual of course.

He let out a deep, raspy moan into their collided mouths and twisted his fingers around Bruce’s hair, tugging him closer. He slanted his head for a better angle and unleashed a series of muffled moans as he devoured the inside of Bruce’s hot, wet mouth. Bruce fell right into his gravity, pulled by Jason’s energetic force, by his throbbing vitality. His grip around Jason’s hips turned bruising, iron-like and it made Jason want to melt into him.

They were leaning down so much that Jason fell onto the bed on his back without even thinking about it and Bruce descended right along with him. He brushed over Bruce’s jet-black locks with one hand. Bruce closed his eyes at the feeling, looking soft as Jason’s callused fingertips glided down to the nape of his neck.

Bruce hummed deep in his throat. The back of his knuckles stroked down Jason’s arm and caught the knob of his elbow. With one eye on Jason’s face, he lifted up Jason’s forearm so he could lay kisses around the prickly, scarred skin.

Jason’s face warmed at the amorous display of affection and he took his arm back, feeling embarrassed for the way his heart tripped a few times just then. He was so done in by this man and his stupid actions that meant absolutely nothing.

He put a hand on Bruce’s chest and pushed him so there was space between them.

“Need to take this off before you start eating my whole arm,” he joked, tone dry. He took off his leather jacket, then his vest and jeans in a clipped fashion, with none of the slow smoothness required of strip-teases.

Meanwhile, Bruce watched him undress with a silence that generally unnerved people but to Jason, it just stirred him up like crazy.

He threw his clothes unceremoniously to the side one-by-one and lifted his hips off the bed to slip out of his briefs. His eyes remained fixated on Bruce’s, whose features had drawn in tight by the time Jason was fully naked.

He smirked at the almost constipated look on Bruce’s face, like the other man was trying hard to resist his baser urges but what else were they here for if not to do that?

Bruce really needed to let go before he burst a nerve. So Jason rested his head against the headboard of his bed and put two fingers into his open mouth. He licked them distal to proximal, lapping to the sides too as if they were a real dick. It was nothing like an actual dick. He knew what one felt like around his mouth; the weight of it, the musky smell, the swallowing reflex he had to resist every moment that it was in his mouth.

He just didn’t know what Bruce’s cock felt like.

Bruce’s was bigger for one.

He increased the number of fingers, pistoning it in and out of him like someone’s cock would. It took four tries before his fingers were hitting the back of his throat and his gag reflex acted up. The first time, he had coughed for a long time, but he had learned to relax his throat after that.

He spread his knees, calves coming up to bend as he trailed his wet finger down and down. He bypassed his cock and his balls altogether and reached his hole, shifting over so Bruce had a good view of it.

Bruce was watching all this, of course, he was. His face looked strained, though. It was their first time fucking. If he didn’t look like that, Jason would have to be offended.

“Jason,” Bruce said in a low, warning tone. “What are you doing?”

“Bruce,” Jason said in response, tracing his finger over his hole. He let his voice go raspy as he demanded: “Fuck me,”

“Jay--” growled Bruce, looking dangerous from under Jason half-lidded eyes. “Stop.”

Jason tilted his head and let a mocking expression mark his face as he said: “I haven’t even started anything yet, Bruce.”

Then, he offered a wide, roguish smirk while keeping eye contact.

It was enough.

Bruce was on him the second Jason’s smirk registered to his mind. It always seemed to stir Bruce up like crazy when Jason acted like some naughty boy on Santa’s list. He gripped Jason’s thighs and fit between them without hesitation. Their cocks bumped together and suddenly, they were grinding into each other. Bruce hissed over his lips before fastening a deep kiss onto Jason.

Arms snaked around Jason’s back, holding him in a secure grasp. Bruce’s other hand trailed from Jason’s twitching stomach lower and lower until he was tracing the sharp angles of Jason’s hips. They met eyes.

Bruce had a contemplative look to him, like he was considering-- his hand curled inward so it was underneath Jason’s hips, squeezing one of his buttocks just a bit-- _that_. A stutter of breath escaped Jason’s ajar lips-- like a gasp, oh, who was he kidding? Exactly like a gasp.  His heart thudded loud and hard underneath his ribcage.

He hated how Bruce reduced him to a bunch of charged nerves and burning sensations.

Just pure hated it.

“You have a way to…” Bruce decided to ask.

Jason, for a full minute, just plain stared at him. Until Bruce raised a brow at him.

He had to swallow but he refused to. He refused to let Bruce know how his every word and action affected.

Jason looked away, toward the dressing table by the side, keeping his gaze glued to the drawer so Bruce would get the clue himself without Jason having to go and speak with his insides all turned to mush right now.

He needed a minute. Bruce’s long arms went and reached for the drawer, pulling it open and rifling through it while his broad frame hovered over Jason’s body. Jason took a breath in and a breath out.

So they were doing this. They were definitely, absolutely doing this.

Did Jason mention it was the first time they were doing this?

  


It had been a few months since Jason had found himself accidentally-- _totally accidentally,_ he had to stress here-- kissing Bruce while they were in the middle of one of their arguments. He didn’t know what had gotten into him.

 _Dumbass Cupid, who else?_ Supplied his mind helpfully.

Well, that day, they were up on a rooftop of some building. Jason had whacked a thug too hard in the head and the thug had to go to the hospital to get recovered. Something about being concussed or whatever.

Bruce had been so angry. He’d gone: “This is exactly the kind-of move that makes not want to trust you, Jason.” While Jason had gone: “Oh, I know exactly why you don’t trust me and it’s not because _I don’t_ restrain myself from punishing the scums of this earth with the gentleness they don’t deserve. No, it’s because _you’re disappointed_ I’m not an exact replica of Grayson and _don’t you_ even try to deny it.”

The last bit had been evidently bitter because if not for anything else, Jason was bitter to the end. Bitter that he hadn’t been first. Bitter that he lost in the worst way. Bitter that Bruce didn’t care enough for him to take a life or two.

Bitter to the very end.

But he was over all that, of course. He just liked bringing it out as evidence that Bruce was a cold-hearted jerk and deserved his ire and yes, occasional hatred.

And it had gone back-and-forth like that between the two of them. With Jason countering and twisting every one of Bruce’s words while Bruce had just gotten angrier and angrier. Until they were leaning nose-to-nose, glaring daggers at each other, their breaths coming out in pants on the other’s lips.

It had to happen someday, Jason supposed. The kissing.

They got into each other’s face-- _and_ nerves-- quite a lot, but no-one would have thought it sexual until Jason had laid one onto Bruce.

Bruce had frozen, obviously.

Stiff shoulders, jaw clamped up tight and clenched hands-- he had just frozen just like the gargoyles in Gotham-- all grim and tight and unresponsive. For just enough time that Jason had wilted inside and almost cringed away at his colossal blunder.

Then Bruce had clutched his arms in this tight grip and _oh_ , Jason had thought -- _he’s probably gonna push me away and yell at me some more_ \-- but that hadn’t been what Bruce did. Bruce _kissed_ him back, with _tongue_. It had been really overwhelming for a nonplussed Jason who had been ready for rejection and despair right afterward.

It had been Jason who was the frozen one then. Completely shell-shocked, he had stared into the closed eyelids of the cowl and opened his mouth with a gasp when a tongue stroked his lower lip. Then his hand had shakily and tentatively rested on Bruce’s cape. When Bruce didn’t stop, he had sucked up his courage and slowly, he had closed his eyes, tilted his head and responded to the kiss.

It was the sweetest moment of his life.

It had replaced the memory of laying his fifteen-year old head on Bruce’s arm while they had been watching a movie. That had been the day Bruce had taken himself off Batman duty, all ‘cause Jason was sick and needed company. It had been a warm, protective cocoon that he had slumbered in that day, knowing he was cared for. Knowing he was loved.

But then he had died and he had never been able to look back at that moment without a trace of cynicism.

The kiss though-- their first kiss had felt like coming home, like light had been set all over the dark spots of his heart. Dark spots though, like scars, didn’t heal at once.

And Bruce hadn’t been ready. Once they had parted from their passionate lip-lock, his face had instantly gone through that well-recognized ‘oh shit, what did I do’ change.

Bruce had locked up once again, but that time, there had been no give. Just a glare directed at Jason before Bruce had shot his grappling gun off in the distance and had left Jason standing there, alone, cold once again.

  


That would have been the end of it.

Jason had been feeling low enough after that hot-and-cold moment that he’d thought: _hey, the memory of just that one epic kiss is fine with me_.

But the heart wanted what it wanted and suddenly, every time they encountered each other-- either during their separate patrols that somehow collided or during the Batman Inc team-ups-- Jason found himself teasing Bruce.

Because now he knew that underneath that cold, unforgiving mask of Batman, there existed a desire to muss up Jason. Jason figured out pretty soon that whenever he smirked or made a sarcastic, vulgar or playful comment, Bruce would flare up on the inside. At some point, he could feel how his words affected Bruce and then it just got so much easier to get under Bruce’s skin.

During all his playful teasing though, someone was bound to notice that he was being deliberately provocative. That someone had been Barbara, to nobody’s utter surprise. She was more observant than Tim sometimes, but only because Tim tended to focus more on the puzzle of his investigations than what was going on in his immediate surroundings.

What could he say? The boy had found his niche.

Jason had been glad that it was Barbara who took notice first because he thought, hey, she’s not judgy and she’ll probably mind her own business.

No such luck on that front.

“You do know that you get on Bruce’s nerves without even trying, right?” Barbara had told him when Jason had been sitting on the ledge of a rooftop, smoking.

She had appeared right behind him, in full Batgirl get-up. “Hey, Babs. You lookin’ fine today.” He had commented without blinking an eye. He was calm and composed like that sometimes.

Sometimes, being the key word.

Even though Babs was wearing a cowl, Jason could feel her rolling her eyes at him.

“Duh, I always do.” She lifted her shoulder in an airy manner and tossed her head. Then she turned serious and glared at him. “And I know what you’re doing, okay?”

“What? Smoking?” Jason demanded, his hackles raised at the confrontational look on her face. “You do know that I’m not fourteen-years old anymore, right? You don’t need to keep my secret anymore, the Boss won’t care that a twenty-four year old man is smoking. It’s not a crime, you know.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned out loud, walking toward him with her hands on her hips. “Would you stop trying to change the topic. You’re like the worst liar in the history of liars.”

“No, I’m not.” Jason was offended. He had totally lied successfully before. He just needed to remember when.

“And if you think Bruce never knew about that vice of yours, you’re wrong.” She added as an aside. “And dumb.”

“Hey! That’s really uncalled for!”

She sniffed and tipped her head back, giving him an ire-filled look. “What do you think you’re doing exactly?”

Jason looked around him in bafflement before he said: “Uh-- nothing?”

“With _Bruce_ ,” she emphasized. “What do you think you’re doing with Bruce?”

“Nothing!” Jason yelled in a completely unconvincing voice. He was starting to feel like a fourteen year old again-- defensive, churlish and superficially arrogant.

“You’re teasing him, _testing_ his limit to endure your blatant attempts to provoke him.” Barbara pointed out with pursed up lips. “More than usual. And trust me, I know your usual spiel with him, okay? I’ve seen it first-hand but this is different. You’re being perpetually obtuse.”

“Did you just call me dumb again? I find that doubly offensive, Babs.”

“God, stop trying to change the subject, Jason! You can’t escape this conversation, okay?”

“No, I totally can. See? You know why, right?” Jason snatched the grappling gun from his side and shot it on the building opposite them. He waved a hand at her as he was yanked through the line while she stared at him with a gaping mouth.

“Jason!” She shouted as he flew away from her. “You can’t run forever, you know!”

Wasn’t that the cold, harsh truth. But he had outrun Barbara for now. She didn’t try to approach him again about the subject anyway. Probably knew how much he just didn’t want to talk about it. The thing was-- the thing with him and Bruce-- he just wanted it to stay in their very own fucked up bubble.

Like, sure, it was fucked up and twisted of him to keep provoking Bruce into being angry so they could hate-kiss again.

But it was _his_ fucked up thing and he’d like it if people didn’t judge him for it.

It was nice of Barbara to care though.

  


So what happened next was that the second kiss between them happened when Jason least expected it.

They were on one of the Batman Inc. missions, for god’s sake. Jason was dressed in his typical Red Hood costume-- with the helmet and all.

Bruce had called up all the former Robins and the current one (Damian) to help him take down a Hong Kong agency, which was planning a world-dominating scheme and had gathered enough heavy artillery in their arsenal that they could totally go through with it.

The heavy artillery being about fifty Metahumans who they had genetically modified and brainwashed, with more being made by the minute in the agency’s evil laboratory.

And these Metahumans weren’t just powerful, they were trained.

So while Bruce dealt with the agency’s CEO AKA the one who started the whole operation in the first place (and was in fact surrounded by fifteen metahumans at all times), Dick and Damian had gotten the most important job out of it all-- finding the Metahumans who had brainwashed the others with their psionic abilities. Jason, Tim and Cass’ job had been dealing with hordes of angry, trained assassin-manchilds who also, happened to be Metahumans.

In Jason’s opinion, his looked and felt more important, seeing as he got out of it with more bruises and wounds than Bruce, Dick and Damian combined.

This is what he told Tim in those same exact words in the aftermath but Tim, being the unsympathetic jerk that he was, remarked: “Oh, suck it up, you big baby.”

Baby! Him!

He had looked at Cass who sat at his side nursing her wounds and looking weary. With his eyes wide and disbelieving, he had demanded: “Do I look like a baby to you, Cass?”

Cass had looked at him in silence before shaking her head.

Jason had felt so much better, knowing that the girl with not much words but a lot of wisdom disagreed with Tim.

“Of course, she’d shake her head. Unlike you, Jason, she’s nice.” Tim had remarked while in the middle of bandaging up his arm.

“And she’s honest,” Jason added before looking back at Cass. “Aren’t you, Cassie?”

“That’s not even--” Tim was going to sputter out some other form of pathetic excuse but he was interrupted by a large shadow hovering over them.

“Good job out there,” Batman rumbled at them like they were still his little chicklets and he the boss. Tim and Jason both felt irked by the bossman attitude but this was typical Bruce. He was good with the commands and the stilted commendations. Not so good with “Hey, pal, I see you’re hurt, let me fix that for you, shall I?” Or something cheesy along those lines.

Come to think of it, Jason would probably wanna puke if Bruce ever did something even resembling that.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asked then and yeah, okay. So Bruce wasn’t all unfeeling. Jason just liked to make himself think so since that was better than knowing you loved someone who totally deserved your…secret devotion.

“Oh, just a couple bruises. Will heal up in no time.” Tim said to Bruce and looked to Cass. “Cass is tired and worn-down, but she does have a few scratches and scrapes that need cleaning up. I’ll handle that once I’m finished with my wounds first.”

“Okay, well, Alfred’s patching up Dick over there.” Bruce pointed behind him at Dick laid out in the stretcher and Alfred hovering over him with his medical aid kit. They were in the Bat-Cave at Hong-Kong and yeah, Bruce had Bat-Caves all around the world. None of them were quite like the one at Gotham, of course. “So if any of you needs help with their wounds…”

Jason could see the exact moment Bruce came to the realization because his voice tapered at the end of those words and his face paled as he eyed Jason and clearly recognized the way Jason was holding himself.

The whole banter thing with Tim and Cass had been a cover-up, actually. Jason had gotten knocked on pretty badly by those Meta-dudes and it really, really hurt, but like every time he was ever hurt, he had masked it up with snarky remarks. Only now was it registering ever so slowly that that one time he had been slammed through four walls, he had busted a few of his ribs. He was pretty sure now that he was bleeding internally. Not only because of the way Bruce’s eyes widened in what looked to be fear, but also because his breath was going in and out of him really shallow and his body was going colder and colder by the second.

Oh, perfect. The one person he didn’t want seeing him weak.

“Um, I--” Jason struggled to say he needed help because even in his weakest hour, he was stubborn to a fault. Fortunately, Bruce understood him and dropped on his knees and cupped Jason's cheek.

“Jason?” He called out, though his face and voice began to blur right that moment. “Jason? Jason!”

That voice becoming increasingly panicked and distant as he passed out was all he remembered. He knew Tim and Cass rose up and spoke too but theirs was a muffled white noise in the background. Bruce’s voice, it rose above the rest and like a buoy in the sea, it kept him anchored until he could no longer stay conscious.

  
  


When he woke up next, he was lying on a hospital bed with IVs pierced into his wrists and a machine beeping next to him. Alfred and Dick had been the first to see him. Bruce was still wrapping things up, as usual, tying off loose ends and making sure their presence didn’t set off too many alarms. He knew how it went.

“You scared us for a minute there,” Dick had said, offering him a smile and a wink.

“Well, you know me.” Jason had said, scratching the back of his head. “I bring the drama.”

“If I may be given permission to say, Master Jason,” Alfred began.

“Go ahead, Alfred.” Jason had waved a hand, knowing when an impending reprimand was nigh. Besides, nobody could stop Alfred when he wanted to say or do something. He had that way about him.

“It was quite _reckless_ of you to not tell us your injuries were this deep,”

“That’s because I _didn’t_ know they were that deep, Alf. I had no idea.”

“I refuse to believe that.” Alfred pointed out dryly.

“Believe what you like.” Jason had shrugged, acting flippant.

“Master Bruce was--”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Dick cut off what Alfred had been about to say. He turned his attention to the butler. “Alfred, give Jason a break. He’s just woken up and is still healing from his injuries. Let’s take it easy, shall we?”

Alfred just sniffed and jutted his chin forward. “I suppose.” He reluctantly agreed before sparing Jason a withering glare.

“What?” Jason demanded, acting dumb to the reason why Alfred was cross with him.

The look in Alfred’s eyes softened then and he murmured: “Take better care of yourself, Master Todd. Please. For my sake.” There was so much more Alfred didn’t say, though. So much that must be on the tip of his tongue. It was like they both thought of the same thing at the same time-- of Jason’s death and the devastation left in the wake of his death-- before they both turned their heads away, shoving the topic out of their minds.

Lucky for Alfred. That nightmare didn’t reside in his head every waking hour.

They had left after a while and Jason had taken a quick nap. The drugs they were injecting him with kept him mostly drowsy. He wondered if Bruce or Alfred had put the doctor up to it since they knew once he gained enough strength, he might try to do impossible feats while still having a stitch on his side.

This happened in the midst of vigilantism. Sometimes, you just got scrapes and bruises that could be healed in a day or two with the help of Alfred, who was sorta really good at it. Sometimes, though, you got fatally injured and had to get treated by a professional doctor.

Bleeding internally wasn’t good, but at least, his head wasn’t bashed in by a crowbar so he ended up practically a vegetable. At least, half of his body hadn’t experienced first-degree burns due to an explosion. At least, the bashing he took to his body hadn’t crushed any of his organs.

Just busted a few ribs. That he could take.

  


When he woke up next, it was dark outside. He groaned and sat up, knowing there was a guest to entertain because Bruce had a presence that you could feel deep within. It was like a chill but different. It was a little creak in the middle of his ribcages.

When you didn’t want it there, it dropped into your life like an unwelcome pest.

When you did want it… it wasn’t there.

“Hey, boss,” He greeted, rolling his shoulders to allay the strain in his body. Turning his head to the side, he stared at the dark shadows that hid Bruce’s body from view and waited.

A second later, Bruce emerged out of the shadows like the devil himself. He wasn’t in Batman’s costume, though. He was dressed up in a navy-blue suit and there was a five o'clock shadow on his squarish jaw, which was the only indication that Bruce may be tired or sleep-deprived.

Jason offered Bruce a weak smile as he asked: “Come to see the damage or give me a lecture about being careful and all that shit?”

Bruce was quiet. Jason noted his tense posture and came to his own conclusion. “Lecture, it is then.” He decided with an exasperated sigh. “Well, let’s get it over with. I mean, Alfred already did his own bit but obviously, I deserve blame for getting injured.” Bitterness like a bad poison welled up in his chest and burst out, not quite on purpose: “That’s apparently a pattern with you guys. Blaming me for my own death, blaming me for my unwitting resurrection and blaming me for my reasonable need for revenge. I can’t do anything right, can I?”

“ _Jason_ ,” And there, Bruce’s voice had reached its peak of loud and angry. Was it Jason’s intention to bring that growly, outraged sound out of Bruce’s throat? No, but Jason liked provoking Bruce a bit too much. Even in a hospital bed, clunked up with some kind of sleep medicine in his system, he was too primed-- too ready to pick a fight.

It was because Bruce was in his blood. He never went away.

“ _You know_ it’s not like that.” snarled Bruce with his unmerciful, frozen blues like blades cutting across the space between them. It caught on the thorny edges of Jason’s heart and pulled at them. “Yet I can see it would take me _years_ to even come close to convincing you that _I never_ blamed you for anything. None of it was _your_ fault. It was mine and I’d happily take your death to the grave as my responsibility, as part of _my_ failing.” Bruce said and it rattled Jason so much that he wanted to rip out his heart for moving as it was doing, quickening and stuttering like a girl with a crush. There were knots and furrows deeply embedded on Bruce’s face, anger and agony clashed together above his brows, around his eyes. Jason could see them even through the cowl. “Don’t you know-- don’t you know how--” Bruce clenched his fists, his eyes shutting up tight as he gritted his teeth. “Don’t you _understand_?”

“What?” Jason tried to appear unmoved, though that accursed heart of his twanged and squeezed in his chest.

Bruce looked up at him, his gaze so filled with unfinished words, with mute regrets and unsaid longing that it took Jason’s breath away.

“I can’t take the sight of you hurt in anyway.” Bruce finally decided to say though that wasn’t all that had been there in his gaze. Jason knew there lurked a lot of hurt, a lot of secrets that refused to release from the tongue. “I hate the sight of it.” Bruce uttered in a wretched tone.

Jason blinked at him as he walked closer, his face crumpled up as he reached a hand out and laid it on Jason’s cheek.

Jason stared up at him, with his eyes wide and his face still.

“You’re--” Bruce halted, hesitated before he said: “--not invincible, Jason. Just because you--”

He stopped again.

“Just because I what?” Jason asked, finding his tongue like a snake finds its tails. He tilted his head up and glared with all his hurt shining out of his eyes. “Died and returned back to life?” He released a scoff that devolved into a humorless chuckle. “You think _I_ think I’m invincible.” He looked at Bruce in disbelief. Didn’t Bruce know how many times he saw his death replayed in technicolor in the back of his eyelids?

_Didn’t Bruce know?_

Bruce’s eyes turned steely, his lips stern once again. “Then what was that?” He demanded, his voice somehow coming out rough and thick with emotion. “Why do you keep jeopardizing your life over and over again? You think I haven’t noticed how much of a daredevil you are these days. Every mission you take, you make the brashest move possible when there were other ways you could have--”

“And you don’t like me brash, do you, Bruce?” Jason countered, his tone sour. “No, you would have liked if I was more like--”

Before he could utter the first Robin’s name-- as he tended to do-- Bruce shut him up by covering his mouth and giving him a thunderous expression when Jason protested behind the hand over his lips.

Bruce was in a no-nonsense mood, he could see.

“No. No more.” Bruce asserted, his eyes glinting in the dark like shards of glass. “You have to know I never cared if you were like Dick. You have to know because I--” Jason could see it took something out of Bruce-- almost broke him-- when he said: “I cared about you more than I should have. There was not a moment that I wasn’t happy when you were by my side. You made my life brighter, Jason.” Jason realized this is what happened when you tore out the solid veneer of cold, unfeeling, scary Batman: you got a man who barely held back his simmering pit of boundless sorrow.

With a heavy heart, with a grief that smarted, Bruce said: “I can’t imagine how you couldn’t know that.”

It would take someone truly cold-blooded to not react after that.

Contrary to popular belief, Jason Todd wasn’t cold-blooded.

“Bruce,” Jason croaked out, bringing a hand up and resting it on Bruce’s cheek. They connected gazes. “I know it, okay? I always knew it. I just--” He glanced away, a sad, wry smile lifting his lips. “I just like to forget about it. Makes it easy somehow to hate you.”

Bruce’s eyelashes fluttered and his burning gaze saw straight through Jason’s bullshit. “But you don’t hate me,” He murmured.

_I could never hate you, Bruce._

_But I tried._

_I really tried._

Jason shook his head, keeping the words locked up tight within his chest. Let Bruce infer it as he’d like it. He was done with sharing.

A man needed his secrets.

Just as he thought that, Bruce’s lips came down on his and pressed them together.

Jason made a surprised noise into their mouths as his hands slid up Bruce’s chest. His fingers clenched on Bruce’s suit and gripped the collar of it with conflict brewing within him.

He didn't know whether to push or pull.

In the end, he closed his eyes and let the kiss lead him where it may. Nothing about Bruce’s prickly, hard jawline or his cracked, dry lips could be construed as sweet but for someone like Jason who’d only ever _really_ wanted one person-- one man-- in his entire broken existence…

It was sweet.

  


A few days later found Bruce and Jason on different sides of Gotham City, back to business as usual. Criminals were wreaking havoc in the streets, in wake of another Blackgate Prison break-in. Smoke and flame were billowing in the background, the origins of it rooted near Cathedral Square. Sirens of firefighter trucks racing to the scene blared, followed closely by GDPD cars.

Red Hood was heading straight to the center of trouble as well. He kicked out of the last rooftop in his way and shot a line across him, toward one of the Cathedral’s pinnacle. It caught around the structure and with the support, he swooped in the air with a whoosh. The wind whistled in his ear, his jacket rustled and city lights beckoned from below his feet as he hopped onto the Cathedral balcony.

Firefly stood there, watching over the wreck he’d made of the city in a few minutes time.

“Showtime’s over, dum-dum,” Red Hood said, aiming his stun-gun at the pyromaniac villain’s back. “Time for you to go back where you came from.”

Lynns turned around and sneered at him. “You think I couldn’t see you coming from a mile away, Hood?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah, act all prophetic, why don’t you. I’m just gonna--” Hood said as he fired at the man a few times. Each one Lynns avoided using the jetpack attached to his back, which he used to propel himself upward so he practically flew above Jason. “Shit, I’mma need one of those. Where do you bastards even get this stuff?”

“Now, wouldn’t that just give the game away.” Lynns returned, smirking and throwing a grenade right at Red Hood.

Jason leaped out of the way just before it struck the ground and blew the ground right from underneath him.

“Shit,” Despite his best effort, he was crashing down with the debris. As he fell with his back to the ground, he shot a line to the transept spire of the Cathedral, which jerked him up into the air. “You psychos aren’t happy unless you’re destroying something in Gotham. Well, I for one--” He fumed out loud as he lurched toward the spire at top-speed, put a foot on it before he sprung into the air, upward so he landed on Lynns. “--am sick and tired of it.”

Lynns and him grappled in mid-air as they loped unsteadily downward. He socked Lynns in his face a few times, resulting in a bloodied jaw. Lynns attempted to topple him over, grunting and scrambling to hit him back but he didn’t have close-combat training like Red Hood did. He relied too heavily on his flamethrower, which he couldn’t use since his hands were preoccupied with fighting off Red Hood.

Lynns practically flailed before yelling out in frustration. “Argh! Get off me! We’re gonna fall to our deaths like this.”

“I don’t mind, as long as I’m taking you down with me,” Jason said with a smile that was hidden from view beneath his red helmet.

Lynns sputtered in protest, producing a scandalized yell. “You can’t mean that.”

Red Hood gave out a sigh and clobbered Lynns around the head with his full strength, rendering the pyromaniac unconscious. Then, he reached around the man and busted his jet-pack with a mini-EMP before he used the line so they could land safely on the streets of Gotham.

He tossed Lynns to the side and clicked his comm-link on. “Firefly’s dealt with. Anything else you might need help with?”

Alfred’s voice answered from the Bat-Cave. “Well, yes, there is, but I feel reluctant to ask you.”

“Spit it out, Penny-One.” Red Hood pushed, not in the mood to be coddled.

“Scarecrow on Neville Street, causing quite a chaos among the crowd. There are riots breaking out.” Alfred replied.

“Oh,” Jason had thought it must be something related to the Joker. Now, why would Alfred feel hesitant about sharing Scarecrow’s ETA? It was just fear toxins.

Oh right.

Fear toxins.

Jason could be susceptible to them. Could be. He hadn’t faced Scarecrow after coming back to life, after all.

“Copy that,” He said in the comm-link and once he was done tying up Firefly by extra-reinforced Bat-line, he took off.

  


It turned out he really was susceptible to fear toxins.

Weird.

The laughs of Joker screeched in his ear. His mother, Sheila, whimpered from somewhere to his right, apologizing over and over again for what she had done.

“I’ve heard of you,” Scarecrow-- Crane-- was saying. He looked like Joker, though. “You’re Red Hood. Weren’t you supposed to be on our side? Or that’s what I heard, anyway.”

“I…” The earth was vibrating under him but he knew it was just an illusion. Something rung loud in his ears, like a church bell except higher-pitched and it was distorting his thinking.

“Why do you have the Bat’s sign on your chest?” Crane questioned, curious.

Blood-red. His whole view was painted blood-red.

There were people-- innocent people who were obviously confused by the fear toxin in their system-- pouncing on him with fists and kicks. One was biting him on his armored shoulder. One was pulling Jason’s arm back, twisting it painfully. They were amateurs but they were a lot of people. The fact that they all looked like Joker didn’t help matters. He didn’t know who to hit.

How did Batman get out of this anyway?

This was a mix of sensory-deprivation and sensory-overload combined.

“What a mystery you are.” Crane was saying in a wondering tone. There were worms coming out of his mouth.

Dirt.

Grave.

He was back in the coffin, screeching at the top of his lungs for “Batman”-- for “Bruce”-- digging through the mud-brown soil, pulling himself upward with blistered hands and shaky fingers. He was hyperventilating.

He relived his death and his horrifying return to life in dreams but never like this-- never like _this_.

There was a crashing sound, a crack. He heard Crane shrieking something. A motorcycle’s whir followed closely by. Then, footsteps.

“Jason,” Someone yelled. “Snap out of it.”

He felt someone slap him one time.

Two times.

“ _Jason_ ,” He heard the concerned voice, a rumbling baritone. “It’s not real.”

Jason was all disintegrated nerves and buckling fear but he jolted out of it nonetheless.

It was Bruce. Bruce was finally here to save him.

He blinked and blinked but he couldn’t see Batman standing before him. It was still the nightmare come to life clutching his shoulder.

Was he hallucinating?

“I can’t see you, Bruce,” Jason said, breath trembling, chest heaving in trepidation. “I know you’re there, but I _can’t_ see you.”

“Shhh,” murmured his savior, pulling him close to a chest. Only he was seeing a purple, gaudy suit up close. He closed his eyes, shuddering, wanting to leap back. “You’re okay, Jay. You’re okay.”

 _There is no warmth in Joker_ . He told himself. _Joker doesn’t have thick, corded arms_ . _He is lanky_.

More reassured, Jason remembered that Joker smelled like paint, acid, and _fire_. He didn’t smell like leather, sweat and a hint of cologne. He didn’t feel like safety. He didn’t own that inflection of guarded gentleness in his voice that was all Bruce.

It _was_ all Bruce.

Soothed, Jason calmed down and pulled himself away from Bruce.

“How long will this thing run through my system?” He asked coolly, keeping his voice distant and reserved. He stood up and looked around him. “‘Cause I can still see weird creatures in my vicinity.”

“Roughly twelve hours at most,” Batman replied, standing up as well. He sounded grim, as always. “You’re done here, Hood. Go home and get some rest.”

Red Hood snorted. “Are you kidding me? Black Gate's most notorious inmates have been set free on the streets of Gotham and every one of your allies are giving it their all to catch them all before they can get away. And _you_ want me to _sleep_ just because I got hit by a heavy dose of fear toxins?”

“We can’t have you out there while you’re like this and not just for you,” Batman responded, quite brutally. “You could endanger other people’s lives the way you are.”

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, shooting his line toward the rooftop of a building. “You’ve gone out in the field suffering from worse toxins so thanks for your vote of confidence, but I got a handle on this.” Then he volleyed up into the air with the line. He turned the comm-link on and addressed Alfred: “Got anything for me, Penny-One?”

Alfred asked, “Are you sure?”

“You trust me, right, Alf?” Jason said as he transversed from one rooftop to another. He had turned his infrared lens on and could see where he was going despite the toxin trying its best to distort his vision. “Sure, I got lost there for a while, but I would have overcome it in a minute or two, you know that.”

“But sir, perhaps--” Alfred said.

“I only needed to recalibrate to this new situation and now, I have.” Jason interrupted, keeping his voice matter-of-fact and adamant. “I can do this. You need to believe in me. I know our boss doesn’t, but you’ve always been able to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

There was a pause before Alfred sighed on the other side. “Very well, sir. But I am sending you somewhere you can only cause harm to criminals.”

“Sounds right up my alley,” Jason said with a wide grin.

“Spoiler, one of our newest agents, needs help at Gotham Harbor. Turns out Bane is amongst the many fugitives who are trying to escape by a cargo ship.” Alfred instructed. “The cargo ship contains stolen, precious items. Hope it isn’t too complicated for you, Master Jason.”

“It’s perfect. Thanks, Penny-One.” He said and switched his direction mid-swoop.

He could still hear Joker’s insane laughs, but then again, he dreamt of that asswipe everyday. Yeah, the vividity of his hallucinations shocked him, but he was so over the fear. He had taken a crowbar and wiped the fixated smile right out of that psycho’s face. He knew he was over the fear.

But reliving that day-- that feeling of powerlessness-- that feeling of vulnerability. He never wanted to go back to being that weak-- that useless. Not able to save his mother. Only able to wait for Batman to come and rescue him. Stuck in that point.

He was afraid of going back to that point in his life.

That was all.

Nothing else scared him.

Nothing.

  
  
  


He helped Spoiler dust off Bane and other third-rate criminals by the dockyard with ease. They tied up the villains and waited for GCPD to show up.

“So…” Spoiler said. She was a blonde-haired teenager, wearing a purple get-up. Jason’s visual perception had been set right by this time so he could see her, just not as clearly as he would normally. She had a black mask up to her nose and her doe blue eyes were exposed for all the world to see.

She was a fidgety thing -- kept shifting on her feet or tapping her stick-rod thing on the ground impatiently.

“You’re Red Hood, right?” Spoiler asked. “I heard about you. You-- uh, went underground and spied into Black Mask’s operation for Batman, right?”

Red Hood stiffened. Was that the first thing people heard about him? He was sure it must have been that he had tried to kill Batman once.

“Sorta,” Jason replied. “Batman didn’t really know or appreciate it at the time, of course. He’s cranky like that.”

“Oh, I know.” She said, finding this a topic she could totally rant off on. “I train with him sometimes. When he gets the time, anyway. He’s always so grumpy though. I figure no-one has tried to give the guy some happy pills and that’s a shame because a person needs happy pills some of the time, at least. It keeps you from being too overwrought and tense, like he obviously is.”

Red Hood sniggered. “Pfft. I don’t think I ever heard anyone suggest B try out happy pills.” He brought a hand up and coughed into it. “I’m sure a lot of people would be happy if he did, Spoiler.” Especially long-suffering Alfred Pennyworth.

She snorted and sneaked a look at him. “You know, I’ve been curious about who you are. I mean, I’m sorta good at putting together clues. Obviously, not like Red Robin. Or Harper, that’s Bluebird, by the way. But I figure there aren’t a lot of people you could be, seeing as Batman is… you know.”

Jason raised a brow. “You want me to tell you my real name?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, I know I have to earn it.” She lifted her shoulders and turned to him. “I just like trying to guess who’s behind that mask. It’s a good puzzle to preoccupy my mind with when I’m suffering from that grueling training.”

Jason shrugged, crossing his arms. “It’s not like I care if you know my real identity or not.”

“Oh, keep it to yourself, won’t you?” Spoiler requested brashly. “I need the challenge-- I need to figure it out for myself.”

Jason was only a mystery because he was still dead in all the official records. If he wasn’t, she would’ve been able to figure it out in no time.

“Suit yourself,” He said.

GCPD showed up a few minutes later and they both went different ways. Her to The Narrows. Him to his apartment in the Brideshead.

  
  
  


When he got back to his apartment, Batman was already there. Draped in shadows of Jason’s dark living room, he stood leaning against the wall.

“Oh, you're here.” Jason said in a drained, weary tone.

“How’re you feeling?” Batman asked.

“M’ feeling just fine, tired s’all.” Jason deliberately slurred his words, wanting to make Bruce go away as soon as possible. “The toxins’r affecting me less and less.”

“Good,” Batman said and then, there was a thoughtful silence on his end.

Jason took off his helmet and put it on the kitchen countertop before regarding Batman with an expectant brow raised up.

“We need to talk about this pattern of yours, Jason.” Bruce still sounded like Batman but a hint of emotion leaked out anyway.

“What pattern?”

“The endangering your life more and more frequently one.” growled out Bruce.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I wasn't in danger today. Neither was I in Hong Kong. Stop worrying over nothing, Bruce.”

Batman pulled himself away from the wall and approached Jason with his white lenses narrowed into slits and his shoulders tightened up.

“I'll stop worrying about it when you stop trying to prove yourself to the world, Jason.”

Jason looked up into Bruce’s eye-lenses and frowned. “I'm not,”

Batman grabbed Jason’s arms in his grip and grinded his teeth together. “Then what is _it_? What is it you're trying to pull?!” He shook Jason and leaned in. “Why is it you were trying so hard to look as tough as possible when you've got toxins in your body? If it's not to prove yourself, I _don't_ _know_ what it's for.”

“Bruce,” Jason gulped.

The mask Bruce wore so well had been shed once again and underneath was a mournful look that Jason couldn't face without wanting to avert his eye.

Jason was getting very good at this.

He wished for the first time that he wasn't.

With tentativeness, he slid his hand up Batman’s shoulder and over his jaw. He cupped Bruce’s cheek and gave the man a strained smile.

“I'm alright. I'm fine,” He murmured in soft undertones. “I’m alive, Bruce.”

He knew something about his words ended up affecting Bruce somehow-- knew that he had cut a string off of his tightly held control-- because the next second, Bruce was kissing him.

And that's how they ended up here, in Jason’s bed.

  


Once Jason had been lubed up and stretched out generously, Bruce hadn't hesitated one bit about pushing into him.

Jason scratched his nails down Bruce’s back as he recovered from the abrupt entrance.

It had been a while since he'd been with anyone in this way. Plus, Bruce was _big_.

Bruce kissed his sweat-dripped neck and collarbone as he waited.

“Come on,” ordered Jason in a harsh voice after he was done accommodating to Bruce’s size.

Bruce nodded into his skin and pulled out before thrusting back in with about half of his strength. The force of it and the angle where it struck him made him groan. Bruce did it again and again and pretty soon, Jason’s groan quickly devolved into multiple moans. He held onto Bruce’s shoulders as they fucked.

It didn't take long before Bruce’s put his full weight on top of Jason, hissing into Jason’s ear as he bucked up. He was close. Jason pulled his arms around the other man, practically hugging him closer.

Bruce finished with Jason’s name ending on the tip of his tongue.

They slept wrapped around each other.

  


_“Don’t leave me,”_

_“It’s not right. It’s-- I can’t do this, not with_ **_you_ ** _.”_

_“B, don’t leave, please.”_

“ _Jason, I love you more than you’ll ever know, but this is-- I don’t want to hurt you, any more than I’ve already done_.”

_"No, no, why are you saying this?!"_

 

  
_"It just-- It never works out for me. I don't want-- I don't want to do that to you."_

“ _You liar!”_

 

 

 

_"I'm sorry, Jason."_

 

 

Jason woke up in the middle of the night, his breath coming out heavy yet shallow as he stared into the ceiling.

“Jay?” Bruce murmured by his side.

 _After effects of fear toxins, that’s all_ . Jason told himself before turning to face his former mentor with an expression that was ( _forcibly_ ) empty of all his fears and the lump of vulnerability-- of anxiety-- that stretched his throat.

“Hm?” Jason hummed a query, finding his throat too thin and dry to talk out of.

“You okay?” Bruce pondered out loud, his gaze intent on scanning Jason’s face for a telling mark.

Jason swallowed and nodded back. “Perfect,” He mumbled back and nuzzled closer in Bruce’s warm nook of an embrace. “I’m perfect,”

He could feel Bruce surveying him quietly as he kept his eyes closed, trying to relieve the hurt, the disorientation, the maddening blur of emptiness that circled him so often on nights when he was all alone.

Bruce’s arms around him were like shackles in their own right, but they were shackles he could feel forever safe in. They were shackles that were temporary and came with a lot of confusion and anxiety.

He doubted they would last more than this night.

He doubted that in the rising dawn, faced with the light of truth and repercussions, Bruce would want to stay.

 _He won’t stay and you’re a moron for letting this get it this far_. He thought, keep his limbs from shivering over the apprehensiveness that caught his heart in a deadlock.

In a few minutes time, he fell asleep but he slept more fitfully, more restlessly the rest of the night than before he woke up from that horrible nightmare.

Guess there was one more thing that scared him.

 

And it was more capable of becoming into reality than any of his other fears.

**Author's Note:**

> I left this fic open-ended and up to readers' own interpretation because there is a lace of truth to Jason's fear. Bruce is very wary of his love-life-- after all the heartbreaks, the betrayals, the relationships that just didn't work out because his Batman life in one way or another caused a wrench in the making. And then you bring Jason Todd into the equation (the boy who died under his watch, the boy who haunts Bruce always, who comes back to take revenge, angry and broken and damaged-- just more evidence of how much Bruce fucked up). Like, Bruce will literally be so full of self-doubt, so reluctant to let it bloom into something meaningful and big and powerful that he will push Jason away in the beginning. Now how long he survives the temptation-- the burning ember that is Jason Todd-- who knows? But I'm not willing to write a whole series on figuring that out. It'll take me forever. Bruce is a stubborn bastard, okay?


End file.
